


Sunset to Sunrise

by inkstainedwretch



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Dreams, M/M, Vulcan hand kissing, very nearly gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-14
Updated: 2013-05-14
Packaged: 2017-12-11 20:41:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/803069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkstainedwretch/pseuds/inkstainedwretch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for <a href="http://trekkink.livejournal.com/896.html?thread=30848#t30848">this prompt on the new Trek kink meme</a>: </p><p> </p><p>  <i>vulcans don't dream. spock accidentally melds with kirk in during a crisis, and he's completely taken aback when the strong residue of their bond allows spock to share kirk's dreams</i></p><p> </p><p>This might've gotten a little out of hand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sunset to Sunrise

_He is standing on the wall of a building that is solid and uniformly grey. He attempts to step onto the ground, but the gravity seems to be oriented in such a way that he cannot walk anywhere but the wall. He knows this cannot be the case, because there is a train passing by, infinitely long and the same grey as the building. This place does not abide by any logical rules. This place does not abide by any rules. He thinks he can see Jim walking on the ground beside him, but he is too far away for him to be sure that it is JIm. He attempts to walk towards him, but with the first step he finds himself falling-_

_\---  
_

Spock's eyes opened quickly, but the rest of his body felt paralyzed. His nervous system was in a state of alarm, as though he had actually been falling. There was only one logical course of action that he could deem appropriate, in this situation. He rose from bed and dressed immediately, reasoning that Doctor McCoy should still be in his office, at this time.

\---

Spock did not come to sickbay very often. That was just a fact. At least, he didn't show up very often for his own sake. When Jim was laid up after getting the pants beaten or blasted or poisoned or anaphylactic-shock-ed off of him for the umpteenth time, the pointy-eared pain in the ass was nearly always right there beside him, even if only to ensure his safe return to stable condition and then leave before Jim woke up. The only times McCoy had seen the man come in regarding his own health was during his regularly scheduled medical exams, on which he always came up stupidly healthy.  
  
Needless to say, the sight of the man striding through his office doors with no small degree of urgency was just a little bit alarming, and had him vaguely worried about Jim's safety. What was more alarming, though, is the way he stands so firmly at attention when he reaches his desk.  
  
"Doctor," he said with the gravest of expressions on his face, "I require a thorough neurological examination."  
  
What. The hell.  
  
"Alright," he sat back a little in his chair and gave Spock a once-over. Nothing out of place from what he could immediately see. "Would you care to explain why?"  
  
"I have experienced a hallucination," Spock replied with no hesitation whatsoever. "The hallucination was visual, auditory, and tactile. It came without provocation, and I have never before had symptoms such as these before in my life. I require immediate examination to better determine the cause, so that I may ensure its alleviation and further prevention."  
  
"I...see." McCoy's eyebrows actually furrowed a little at that. He couldn't for the life of him picture Spock hallucinating, and he didn't remember anything weird happening to him since they got back from that god-awful away mission the day before. Maybe this was a delayed effect of the neurological toxin Jim had gotten slammed with just before they'd gotten to him. "When exactly did this hallucination of yours occur?"  
  
"It is...difficult to say." Spock's gaze slipped out of focus for a moment as he thought to himself, which McCoy most definitely did not take as a good sign. "My perception of time when I am unconscious is less accurate than it is when I am awake, but I know that some short amount of time after I fell asleep, it began, and it did not stop until I awoke before shift."  
  
McCoy's pen clattered to the floor. "You're kidding me."  
  
Spock looked legitimately affronted. "Doctor McCoy, I would never-"  
  
"Did Jim put you up to this-wait," he shook his head. "Nevermind. How in god's name could Jim ever put _you_ up to anything? Seriously, though? You're not just messing with me?"  
  
"Doctor McCoy, I do not believe you are treating this situation properly. My mental state could be compromised, and-"  
  
"Spock, answer one question for me. Was this 'hallucination' of yours completely, unbelievably illogical? Like, no consistent sense of time, inanimate objects moving on their own, no idea how it started illogical?"  
  
"Yes, it was. Very much so. It was most disturbing."  
  
"Oh for _god's sake_ , Spock, you had a _dream!_ "  
  
"...Doctor McCoy, I believe I have just misheard you. Could you please repeat your last statement?"  
  
" _You had a dream._ Good god, man, have you never had a _dream_ before?"  
  
"I had aspirations for my future when I was young, certainly, but I do not see what that has to do with the matter at hand."  
  
If there was some sort of cosmic scoreboard out there, this would've put a mark on it. Dr. Leonard McCoy, CMO of the _Enterprise_ , was at an utter loss for words.  
  
"Oh my god. Don't tell me Vulcans don't dream."  
  
His question was met with silence.  
  
"Jesus, that explains so much."  
  
\---  
  
Spock sat in his quarters later that evening, turning the events of the previous two days over in his mind, wondering what might have brought on the occurrence of this...dream. This very human dream, with images and sounds and feelings so utterly devoid of logic that it nearly frightened him. Doctor McCoy had agreed to the neurological examination, but there was nothing different about the chemistry or functionality of his nervous system, aside from the fact that, evidently, now he was dreaming. There was no meaning to the mad visions the human brain conjured while it slept, he had explained. Humans had tried for years and years to assign meaning to them, but it ultimately proved to be a baseless and unscientific endeavor.  
  
In fact, it was more than slightly unsettling, to think that his mind would show him such utterly meaningless images. This was an aspect of human physiology that had never applied to him, despite his half-human nature. Perhaps it had simply lay dormant until now. Still, if that were the case, what could have caused it to suddenly surface, now?  
  
The image of Jim lying motionless on the ground, pupils fixed and dilated, unmoving and certainly not breathing, flared up in his mind. The toxin had been potent, designed to cease the function of his brain, stop his breathing, his heart...everything. The mind meld Spock had initiated had been the first he had experienced with Jim, and yet he could feel that Jim had known exactly what was happening, as though he had melded with someone before. Simply from a logical standpoint, he had rationalized that it had likely been his other, older self even before that memory of Jim's had come to him, but the thought still carried a strange emotion that he was not prepared to investigate.  
  
It had been exhausting, delving into the base of his Captain's subconscious and pouring all of the energy he could into extracting the parts of Jim's mind that controlled his vital processes back out of the toxin's reach, driving his body back into life through sheer force of will. He had never felt a sensation like it during a meld before; navigating his way through Jim's poisoned mind could be likened to swimming through a rapidly crystallizing liquid. (Still, Jim's mind was utterly fascinating, and certainly beautiful. The complexity, sincerity, and blinding intelligence that his mind contained was certainly enough to lead him to hold his Captain in even higher regard, even though their minds were no longer joined.)  
  
He could not determine any clear reason as to why the meld might have caused this strange phenomenon, but he could think of no other probable cause. _When you have eliminated the impossible..._ Knowing this, he was somewhat concerned that allowing himself to sleep again would bring about another hallucination, which could potentially impact how rested he became after sleep, and ultimately his performance during work. Still, he currently felt no less rested after one night, and it would be more detrimental to forgo sleep altogether than it would to risk having another one of these human, hallucinatory dreams.  
  
He ordered the lights off and allowed himself to lie down, falling uneasily to sleep, his mind tense with a strange sort of anticipation.  
  
\---  
  
 _He finds himself outside, surrounded on all sides by tall, soft stalks of grain. The horizon in front of him is endlessly far away, and the sun resting halfway under it bathes the infinite expanse of warm-smelling wheat in a golden-red light. It was the sort of grain one would see in videos and pictures of Earth, the sort he had never seen before in his life, but it grew in stripes of dark brown and fierce orange, like the colors of a tiger. He has never seen a tiger, either. There is no wind that he can feel, but the grain sways as though moved by some tidal force. The air feels new and strange and foreign to him. It seems to hum with a primal, savage joy. This place is not his own. This place is not-_  
  
\---  
  
Spock's alarm broke through the images in his mind none too gently, and they evaporated from his memory like steam. He remembered very little of what his dream contained before he had dreamt of the bridge, but everything afterwards - his childhood home, the crowded station, the field of grain - still clung to the edges of his mind. He stood quickly, taking a data padd from his desk and writing the images down as best he can remember, knowing they will otherwise be gone before his shift even begins. For reasons he could not adequately explain, even to himself, he found these dreams and the raw, unstructured look they provide into his subconscious...intriguing.  
  
His shift passed with little difference from any other before it, but during relatively inactive periods of time, when his full concentration was not completely necessary to continue his work, the image of a softly swaying field of grain, rippling and flowing like an ocean, drifted up from the depths of his mind. He could not erase the image from his mind. It made so very little sense, for a field of plant life to take on the colors of an animal - indeed, an animal Spock had never once seen in his life, aside from in pictures. The dissonance of it clung to him, for everything else he could remember of the night's dream was something he had seen before in his life.  
  
That evening, he sat across a small table from his Captain, their previous idea of a chess game cast aside in favor of simple conversation. Jim's boundless curiosity regarding the cultures and customs of other species was both refreshing and enlightening, and he seemed to have a distinct interest in Vulcan culture. (Spock would never forget the first question, after a hard-won checkmate on Jim's part. _"What was it like? Living on Vulcan, I mean."_ ) Spock admitted only to himself that he found something beneficial in reminiscing, even if he would not have otherwise considered himself a primary source of knowledge regarding the Vulcan way of life.  
  
"So, wait, you're saying _all_ Vulcans sleep on their backs? Or is that just you? I mean," Jim had his eyes narrowed in a way that typically indicated disbelief in what he was hearing, "did anyone ever do a study on that kind of thing?"  
  
"It is typical of most Vulcans, I believe." Spock had never put this much thought into how he slept, before. "Sleeping on one's back allows for maximum respiratory efficiency."  
  
Jim leaned forward, his elbows on the table in front of him, and Spock could see his shoulders shake with silent laughter. "Respiratory efficiency. God, only Vulcans would make sure their _sleep_ was logical. I bet your dreams actually make some kind of sense."  
  
Spock paused. He considered for a moment whether now would be an appropriate time to present the subject of his recent dreams with Jim, since he was almost certain it was their meld that had caused them. He saw no reason why the subject should be considered out of bounds, but he still decided an uncomplicated answer would be best, given the situation. "To the contrary, Vulcans do not dream."  
  
Jim dropped his hands onto the table and looked at him, his expression absolutely stunned. "You're joking." Spock did not respond. "Oh my god, you're not. Seriously? You don't dream. Not at all. Ever. ...whoa. I guess that never occurred to me as a possibility."  
  
Spock raised an eyebrow. If the human concept of dreaming was so universal, surely his mother would have spoken of them, but he could not recall her ever doing so. Were the subject taboo for humans to speak of, that would make sense, but given how freely Jim had brought it up, that did not seem to be the case. An entire species that hallucinated wildly as they slept, yet it was so natural that to do otherwise seemed impossible. Fascinating.  
  
"If I may ask, Captain," he sat forward in his chair, "is it normal for humans to dream every night?"  
  
"It's Jim, and yes." The level of interest in his eyes could only be described as keen. "We don't always remember them - in fact, we usually forget them unless we write it down - but they're a natural part of sleep. I can only sort of remember most of mine, but they don't ever make any sense. I mean..." He looked away. "There are nightmares, which are dreams that scare you to death, but those are a little different."  
  
"Dreams can invoke fear?" Both of Spock's eyebrows were raised, now. "What sort of dreams are those?"  
  
"A lot of people dream that something is chasing them, or that they're trapped somewhere, or that they're falling. Those are less common, though." He seemed to sense Spock's alarm and raised a hand, as though to reassure him. "Usually they're just random things. My dreams are pretty disconnected, most of the time. If I'm really exhausted, sometimes I'll sleep so hard that I won't even remember having one. When I do, though, it's usually things that don't make the slightest bit of sense. Random memories or things I've read about in books strung together. Like the other day, I dreamed I had a pet cat that spoke like an Andorian." He chuckled. "I've never had a pet cat in my life."  
  
"I see." Spock took a moment to process this. "What exactly is the function of dreaming?"  
  
Before he could ask any further questions, Jim had burst into laughter, again. "Sorry, sorry, it's just...we don't even know if there is one. There have been so many studies to try and explain it, but it's still just theoretical. It's something that hasn't made any sense for a long time, even to us, but it's so commonplace that we don't usually even talk about it."  
  
"You do not discuss them?"  
  
Jim shook his head. "No, actually, it's considered one of those things nobody wants to hear about. See, when you're dreaming, it's exciting and new and fresh in your mind, but when you try to describe it to someone else, it's just sort of boring to them. It's like talking about what you had for lunch. You may have thought it was great, but the other person can't exactly get inside your head and see how great it was. It's basically just talking about yourself, which isn't a great way to kill a conversation."  
  
There was a long pause, during which Spock deliberated whether or not to inform Jim of his dream the previous night. While it may have been true that describing the dream from a Vulcan perspective might have proved interesting to Jim, he enjoyed their discussion and did not want to, as Jim had put it, "kill the conversation".  
  
"I see." He glanced at the chronometer, unsure of what to say next. "I believe there is sufficient time for a round of chess. Would you like to play?"  
  
\---  
  
James Kirk was nothing if not smart. He knew his brain inside and out. He knew which parts of it he liked, which parts he wasn't so keen on, and he sort of knew how to avoid the bad bits. He'd be the first to admit that his psyche probably wasn't as structured as, say, Spock's, but he still knew himself well enough to take a step back and think when things got out of hand. He just happened to think a whole lot more quickly than anyone seemed to give him credit for. That was the story he was sticking with, anyway.  
  
Because of this, he was very much aware of the fact that something about his mind had changed, and that it had happened very recently. He couldn't pinpoint what, exactly, but he was almost dead sure it was a result of the mind meld Spock had done to keep him breathing two days ago. As much as he didn't like to remember being paralyzed, he kept replaying the meld over and over again in his head, noting all the ways it had been different from the meld with the other Spock (Ambassador Spock, he had taken to calling him), as well as how it had been nearly exactly the same.  
  
This meld, with his (no) - with the Spock from his world (better) had been much more rushed, with Spock delving straight into the utmost depths of his subconscious. It had felt really, _really_ weird, because the parts of his mind that controlled his breathing and heartbeat were way out of his mental reach, so it was sort of like being suspended in water and watching someone dive right past you. Ambassador Spock had done something a bit different, transferring a huge amount of information and emotion to him, so much that it left him breathless and near tears afterwards. The things Ambassador Spock had shown him were...amazing. Terrifying. Beautiful. The Spock he knew...hadn't shown him as much, but the emotion he had carried with him had almost burned. He had been angry and afraid and frighteningly determined. In a strange way, Jim sort of felt like some of that emotion had stayed behind, like Spock had left a significant mark on his mind, in a different way than Ambassador Spock had done.  
  
And then there was the matter of the dream he'd had the night after the meld. There were a lot of things about dreams that he hadn't told Spock during their short discussion, one of which was the concept of lucid dreaming. Jim Kirk was a pretty damn good lucid dreamer, even if it was rare these days that he was well-rested enough to manage it. That meant, though, that he could generally remember his dreams better now than he could when he was younger. (It also meant that he remembered his nightmares even more vividly, but that was a subject he tried not to think too hard about.) This dream in particular...well. It was different.  
  
There are a few places he dreams of so often that he sort of thinks of them as landmarks. The only ones he could really remember were a field of tiger-striped wheat and a house full of stairs, but the field was his favorite. There was just something about the combination of limitless space and impossible colors that made everything feel open and free and _wild_. The best sleep he'd ever had was when he found himself in the tiger field...and Spock had been there. He'd had his back turned, and he'd vanished in an instant once Jim had caught sight of him, but Spock had been there. The whole space felt strange and tinged with the distinct feeling of a mind that wasn't his own. It had gotten under his skin in a way that he hadn't ever felt before. It hadn't been some image of him Jim had dreamt up; Spock had been standing in front of him, without any apparent reason, inside his own mind.  
  
The hell of it was, Jim didn't actually mind as much as he probably should have. He'd brought up the subject from an oblique angle to see if Spock remembered it, and even though he didn't state as much, it looked like he at least knew something was up. If Vulcans seriously didn't dream, though...that might've been the first dream Spock had ever experienced. Clearly, this needed further research.  
  
He tapped a few keys on his console and fidgeted in his chair until a familiar face looked back at him from the screen. "Hello again, Captain."  
  
"Good-" he glanced at the chronometer, "morning, Ambassador." He sometimes wondered if he was ever going to get used to being friends with two versions of the same person. Or...well, were they really the same person? God, that was a question he was way too sober to get into right now. "How goes the colonization effort?"  
  
"It goes ever onward," Ambassador Spock seemed to smile a lot more than his younger counterpart, even if it was more in his eyes than anything. He always seemed to brighten just a little whenever Jim called, even if he'd been having a truly awful day. Jim used to wonder how much of that was because of the Jim Kirk he had known and how much of it was because of him, but the more they had spoken, the more he could see the sincerity in the Ambassador's happiness for him and his crew. "And the _Enterprise_? Still seeking out new life, I take it?"  
  
"These days, it seems to find us," Jim chuckled. "I have a bit of a strange question for you today, though, about Vulcans. Well, more like Vulcan biology."  
  
The speed with which the joy left the Ambassador's eyes, replaced with a grave seriousness, nearly made Jim jump back in his chair. He seemed to take a moment to consider his words before speaking. "Which aspect of Vulcan biology does it concern?"  
  
"It - um," Jim decided it would be best to go straight for it. "Well, the long and short of it is, I wanted to know if Vulcans dream. I've asked my First Officer, but I wanted confirmation."  
  
To his slight confusion, the Ambassador relaxed considerably. "I see. No, Vulcans typically do not dream. I myself have only experienced dreams that were...not entirely my own."  
  
"Is that so?" Jim leaned forward. "By any chance, did those dreams occur shortly following a mind meld?"  
  
"They did, yes," there was a spark of knowing that Jim had seen more than once during his calls to Ambassador Spock. It always made him want to know more about the Jim Kirk he had known, and the other _Enterprise_ , but he was pretty sure if he asked about that, it could mess up every decision he made for the rest of his life. "They only occurred after a very deep and thorough meld, however, the effects of which lingered for a great deal of time after its completion. My younger self would have to have ventured very far indeed, to have been present in your dreams."  
  
"That would make sense," Jim rubbed the back of his wrist where the toxin had been injected. "I don't know if he remembers being there, though. He hasn't talked about it."  
  
"Jim, I can assure you: he remembers." Oh, ouch. It always ached a little bit to see this heavy sort of nostalgia, the way it fell like a shadow over his face. "However, it is likely that he will not know how to handle this new information, and I believe it would be wise to allow him to process it on his own."  
  
"Understood. Thank you very much for your help, Ambassador."  
  
"You are welcome, Captain."  
  
\---  
  
 _He is standing on a well-worn path, surrounded on both sides by trees. The sky above him is dark, but full of stars. There seems to be no logical course of action but to walk, and so he does. The He sees nothing besides the trees around him and the sky above for an amount of time that seems infinite and impossibly short all at once. All is quiet. There seems to be no other life in sight, and yet he feels as though he is being watched from all sides. He feels a strong desire to leave this place, but he does not know which direction leads out of the forest, and so he continues onward. There are no other paths that cross his, not are there any clearings or areas without trees. There is simply the path, stretching ahead of him._

_The silence is oppressive._

_The stars above him are unmoving, the trees still and lifeless. He feels an illogical swell of fear in his chest, when suddenly he hears a trampling, crunching noise from the distance. He turns and sees Jim, his clothing half-torn, his skin scratched, running toward him from the depths of the forest. Behind him, a shadowy creature he cannot see follows, and without any evidence, he knows this creature is what has hurt Jim. Jim's eyes are wide and full of panic, and when he reaches the path, he trips over a tree root and falls to the ground. Spock is on the ground immediately, throwing him aside, facing the shadow head on even with the terror filling his heart-_  
  
\---  
  
The impact of the formless beast felt like a brush of air on his skin, and his nerves slowly tingled away the imagined sensation. Although Spock awakened quickly, his body was stiff and slow to move. He wrenched himself out of bed when he was finally able, breathing heavily, feeling his heart shudder against his side. The chronometer tells him it is a full four hours before his shift is set to begin.  
  
"Lights-" he coughs. His voice was hoarse and dry. "Lights sixty percent."  
  
He walked immediately to the washroom, opening the door with less coordination than would be optimal, and could not bring about enough control to avoid expressing his shock when he saw his Captain already at the mirror, looking nearly as shaken as Spock felt. The door to his cabin was propped open slightly by the blanket still wrapped around his ankle, but he did not seem to notice. Their eyes met in the mirror, and they regarded each other for a long moment before Jim finally spoke.

"I'm sorry."

There were so very many things that Spock wished to say in response, namely to reassure Jim that there is no way this could possibly have been his fault. Before he could speak, however, his mind presented to him a rather stunning conclusion. The only reason Jim would be apologizing at this moment was that he knew why Spock was also awake and in shock at this hour, and that he might have had a reason, however illogical, to believe it was his fault. So, instead of saying the many things he wanted to say, he asked the one thing he needed to know more than anything.

"Are you alright, Jim?"

Jim laughed weakly. "Yes, Spock. I'm alright. Are you?"

Spock took a moment to consider the situation they now found themselves in, with all of its potential and current consequences. From a logical standpoint, it was potentially detrimental to his physical well-being and disastrous for his mental and emotional control. However, as he met Jim's eyes again, he found himself sure, without any evidence to support his claim, that this strange new connection posed no true threat to either of them. It was the sort of feeling he had never before experienced prior to meeting James T. Kirk. It brought a smile to his eyes, and he attributed his display of emotion to the tiredness permeating his mind.

"I am, Jim. Thank you."

Jim turned around to face him, looking only slightly more relaxed. "I guess that's a hell of an introduction to dreams, huh? I mean, given that this is only the second one."

"On the contrary, it is the third."

"Really? Jim leaned back against the counter. "What was the first one, then?"

"It occurred shortly after you were brought back to the ship and discharged from sickbay. I cannot remember very much of it, other than a train and a very distorted sense of gravity."

Jim's eyes got even wider. "Oh my god. You've seen the train station too, then."

"Is that location a familiar setting for your dreams?" Spock tilted his head slightly. From what he had read about human dreams, they did not tend to have any meaningful patterns or repetition, and they were nearly always forgotten. To think that Jim might have knowledge enough of his own mind to remember certian locations was fascinating, to say the least.

"One of them, yeah. I sort of practiced for a few years to try and remember my dreams, and then to try and control them." Jim looked down at his feet. "This...wasn't one of those dreams I could control."

"If it were, that would be very surprising," Spock's words brought the smile back to Jim's face. "The practice you are describing sounds somewhat similar to some Vulcan meditation techniques. We seek to know our minds, and then to organize them. I had previously thought that humans were not generally as familiar with their own consciousness, but it appears that, at least, there are exceptions."

Jim looked up at him again, and were Spock to suddenly develop an interest in poetry, he might have described his eyes as glimmering. "I've got a pretty consistent track record of being the exception."

\---

_He is standing in a hallway of a house that is impossibly tall. Behind him, he can see doors that look identical, but he somehow knows that no two doors lead to the same place. There is a polished and intricately carved wooden railing in front of him, and a short distance away, he can see a staircase leading down. He looks down below the railing and sees a multitude of staircases, each leading to another level with another set of doors. It seems more like a tower than a house, with stairs winding down until he can no longer distinguish them. From a nearby window, he sees the pale light of a Terran sunrise, though the sun is somewhere out of sight._

_Jim's mind is beautiful.  
_

_He hears footsteps, soft and steady behind him, and when he turns he sees Jim approach him. His skin is not scratched, nor is his clothing torn. His eyes are glimmering and his smile is bright. This place is not his own, and yet he feels at peace here. He feels warm and welcomed, and a twist of curiosity grows within him. He wants to explore this house, to open each of the doors and find what lies behind them, but he does not have permission._

_Jim laughs. Of course, he has permission._

_Jim looks down, and his own eyes follow. Jim's hand rests on the railing, palm and fingertips facing upwards like an invitation. It is absolutely an invitation. He lifts his own hand, but he cannot be sure, cannot bring himself to touch, doubting he will truly feel it. Jim closes the distance, instead. He feels it._ _  
_


End file.
